Follow our American family of 4 (+ one dog) as we begin our new life in Lillehammer, Norway.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Finally, some home cookin'

Our oven, cooktop and hood vent were hooked up yesterday, so today I was ready to start some home cookin’.

Or so I thought.

We’ve been existing off of takeout pizza, deli-baked chicken, and microwave dinners for the last 3 weeks, so the idea of a soup simmering on the stove sounded delightful. And since I was denied any opportunity to bake Christmas cookies this year, I added that to our to-do list today, as well.

First off, check the ingredients: We’ll need eggs, 2. Hmmm. .. we actually have eggs in the refrigerator, but since we have had no way to cook them since December 9th. . . probably not good. Add eggs to the shopping list. Other items: flour (doubtful), and oh yes, molasses? Vanilla? Where on earth are those. . . Suddenly this baking idea has morphed from baking, to baking, shopping and digging through boxes. But there’s no backing out now: Greta is all fired up about making cookies.

Several trips down and up from the basement to dig through boxes labeled “kitchen” , I locate baking soda, baking powder, salt, molasses and vanilla in Box 55. But no flour.

Our car refused to start last night, rather ironically, at the grocery store, where we needed to head again. Thankfully, the grocery store is a short 5-10 minute walk from our house. Not so thankfully, it is about 10F outside. Greta is bundled up, as is Tika, and off we go.

Once home, we begin the cookie baking and soup making. But first, mixing bowls. Haven’t thought of those lately. According to my reference notebook, they are in box 56. Down to the basement, located, up again. Ahhh yes. . . mixing spoons.And, huh. . . measuring spoons. And cups. Box 53. Down and up again. This is getting a little tiresome. But whaddya know? Here are cookie racks—those will be handy! A spatula. . . that’d be nice. .. but at this point, not necessary. Can do without. Not worth the trouble.

Moving on to the soup. I need our large soup pot, last used in. . . Vermont. This means old, unlabeled boxes that haven’t been opened in 16 months. Good heavens, what was I thinking???But wait! I remember I did open some of those boxes in our rental house and repacked them, and the pot is in a box that includes the instruction: WASH. Because when they were repacked, I discovered chewed upcookie decorating candy boxes and mouse poop. How fun. Just what I want to deal with at this moment.

But, it just so happens that while I was running down and up from the basement a dozen times, our plumber was installing the faucet to our kitchen sink. While just this morning I was washing dishes in our laundry room, this afternoon flowing water “completes” our kitchen.

And ohhh. . . heaven is washing a huge soup pot in our new sink. Deep and extra wide with a high arching faucet, even washing away the possible remnants of mouse doo-doo is fun.

Until the alarm rings on the cookies, and I realize I have no idea where my oven mitts are.

3 comments:

What a wonderful post! I know the point was to amuse me so I laughed with a clean conscience. ;) who can't relate to living out of boxes for at least a brief period of time? Frustrating! Hope the cookies and soup satiated your appetites :D

This made me laugh Emily! We still have 26 boxes in storage only I was not so organised to number them so I'm always having to run out to our storage to attempt to track them down (we even stockpile toilet paper out there and I have to often send Henrik out for a loo roll emergency!)

:) How did the cookies turn out? You are super organized to have a list of the boxes and what is inside. We have boxes in our storeroom that I haven't unpacked since we moved to New Hampshire... Awesome sink!

Who am I, really?

The Other Players

Erik: my sweet husband, a native Minnesotan with Norwegian ancestry. Lived in Voss and Trondheim, Norway from 1994-1996, and vowed to return. Once a competitive cross-country ski racer, now with a PhD under his belt and behind his name, he found a job that brought us all to Norway. Mission Accomplished.

Greta: our cheery 7 year old daughter, born in New England, moved to Norway at the age of 2.5 years and quickly became bilingual. Never stops drawing or reading, unless I tell her to put it down and pick up her violin.

Henrik: our newest addition, born in Lillehammer in February 2013, but still 100% American blooded and loves Elmo, tractors and cranes.

Tika: our 10 year old, 80lb Weimaraner/Black Lab hunk of a dog, who bravely faced her fears of confined spaces and loud noises and flew across the Atlantic Ocean in a drug-induced haze, and lived to bark about it. Loves tennis balls, long runs in the woods, and these gross dried fish treats we've found here.